Do No Harm (High Chaos)
by Samuel Keller
Summary: As a surgeon, one must be prepared to perform morbid tasks that are out of the ordinary. These tasks cause suffering not as a goal, merely as a symptom, but their necessity demands sacrifice. Only the greatest surgeons are able to understand this tenet.
1. Chapter 1: I've Done This Before

**PLEASE DISREGARD THIS MESSAGE IF YOU HAVE READ THE LOW CHAOS VERSION OF THIS STORY FIRST!**

 **Hello fans and newcomers alike! It's been a while since I've written anything on this site, but Dishonored 2 sparked a flame in my imagination and gave me a killer idea for this story, writing about one character but from two perspectives (Low Chaos and High Chaos). You do not HAVE to read both versions if you want, but there may be some narrative holes later on as the story expands and the two paths diverge (at least as far as I have planned). But you do you, I can't tell you how to read my story. If you like it, please drop a review to tell me what you liked. If you didn't like it, again please drop a review to tell me what I can fix, I'm more than happy to take criticism.**

 **Anyway, let's get going.**

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Nikon Luca bathed his gloves in antiseptic alcohol, licking his lips underneath his mask. He flexed his fingers, cracking his knuckles underneath the tightened leather.

"Get him on the cot," snapped the surgeon.

The company of three set down their fourth comrade on the medical bed, the man groaning in pain. His left hand was covered in blood and metal bits of shrapnel from a homemade grenade, likely from a gang attack.

"Doc, is he gonna be alright?" asked one of the guards.

Nikon thought about making a line about cutting off the man's hand and making an 'all-right' joke, but decided that it was a little too morbid for the moment and would likely impact the patient's health negatively.

"Motor function in his hand will likely decrease, but he will retain movement in it," explained the surgeon analytically. He picked up a pair of tweezers, snipping them together experimentally. "Please refrain from moving your hand too much. It'll move the metal bits around, and might cut something important."

He meticulously began to remove chunks of metal, the patient grabbing his buddy's arm for support.

"Come on man, you're doing great," encouraged his friend, patting him on the shoulder.

"Yes, he is definitely limiting his movements," grunted Nikon calmly. He placed a piece of metal onto a nearby tray. "You're lucky. Not a single one has appeared to be embedded in bones, so you should heal quickly."

The surgeon set down the tweezers, removing a scrap of cloth from a tank of antiseptic and wiping down the man's fresh bleeding wounds. The man snarled in pain and tried to flinch away, but a quick hand from the surgeon stopped him.

"I get that it stings, but I gain no pleasure from your pain, so please refrain from expressing it," snapped Nikon coldly. "Thankfully, this next bit will hurt decidedly less because of the previous bit."

He grabbed a needle and thread, beginning to sew the small wounds across the man's hands, moving with elegant swiftness across the skin easily. He was humming softly to some unknown tune, his eyes focusing on the skin intently.

"Bloody hell, that's some needlework," whispered the captain astonished.

"Surgery is my expertise, after all," spoke Nikon, snipping the thread on one wound and going to the next. He debated mentioning the 'specialties' of the guards in that room usually includes drinking, swearing, and being obnoxious cunts, but decided such a thing was unprofessional.

Once he finished, Nikon bandaged the stitches to make sure they wouldn't be pried off by itching fingers, keeping it in place with a metal bobby pin. He made sure the bandage was secure, before smiling contently. "Good to go."

He pulled out a carton of cigarettes, handing one to his patient. "Believe me, you're going to want these. Because you can't drink until you heal."

"What?!" asked the patient shocked. "I can't drink at all? What the hell am I going to do to pass the time?"

"Read a book, assuming you can," snapped his captain. "The doctor gave orders. You are to follow them."

The patient sighed, but nodded. "Yes sir."

Nikon lit the man's cigarette, lighting his own before throwing the match away. "Probably for the best, anyway. Drink will ruin you."

"I imagine you don't partake in it," noted one of the patient's friends.

"I prefer not to indulge in things that affect my work. Now if you have nothing else, I must get back to my lab."

Nikon walked out of the hall, blowing out a puff of smoke. "Another routine patient…least it gave me some practice."

He moved down the hallway easily, noting the expensive décor his client, council member Kuznetsov, loved to decorate his homestead with. It seemed so mind-numbingly saccharine to him, most of which art from local artists as if to flaunt his support of the community around him out of some misplaced paranoia.

"To be fair, it's hard to believe he gives a shit about anyone else," grunted the surgeon. "Bloody politicians, they're all the same."

He entered his laboratory, sliding his hands back into his pockets. "Diana, I have returned from the bottomless pit, bringing forth smoke and locusts. How goes the seeking death part?"

"Doctor, your morbid sense of humor is relatively nonexistent, but still appreciated," answered his assistant, glancing at him from her position at a microscope. "Did you have to go down to the clinic, though? Surely they could've handled whatever was going on down there."

"Yes, but it would impair my reputation if I simply turned away from a difficult case. Besides, I was bored, and I needed practice."

He sat down next to her, studying the glass cases on the table in front of them. Each one was full of rats in various stages of dying or dead, covered in fiery red sores and burns. "…I take it these ugly abominations in front of me are a result of mustard gas."

Diana nodded. "Subjects 12, 14, 25, 41, and 49 remain alive, but only barely. All others have expired within the last 6 hours. Specifically, the vast majority began to expire this morning, approximately 24 hours after initial exposure. It would seem by autopsy that most of the subjects expired by suffocating from sores developing in their airways, sealing it off by swelling."

"So undignified," grunted Nikon poking one of the cases, noting how the rat weakly glanced at him. "Please make a note that I disapprove of this compound from a professional standpoint. It is both unreliable in its lethality and remarkably inhumane."

"You consider killing and inhumanity non-synonymous?" asked Diana curiously.

"As a surgeon and doctor, I dislike excessive suffering. If we could spray a compound that immediately kills its victims, I would use that over this sadistic chemical."

He crossed off mustard gas from the list of possible chemical agents, right behind chlorine gas and phosgene. "Lethal gas agents appear inconsistent in best of circumstances. Nonlethal gas agents, however, have proven to be exceptionally debilitating. In particular, chili-pepper-based gases, such as the uncreatively named pepper spray, produce near-instantaneous pain and inability to properly function for at least half an hour."

Diana nodded, writing down his audible musings. "Perhaps we should petition for testing on other compounds? Perhaps not gas related."

"If you're going to propose whale oil bombs again, I'm going to get cross," snapped Nikon rolling his eyes.

"Oh please, that very idea was fundamentally flawed," admitted his assistant. "While whale oil is exceptionally explosive, there's simply no way of preventing alterations of pressure, say from dropping it or launching it with a mortar, meaning that it would do more damage to the user than the enemy. It works fine for bullets, but large amounts of whale oil get increasingly more unstable, so anything larger than a few grams is potentially dangerous."

"Then what are you proposing?"

"Biological."

Nikon whirled on her, glaring at her through his dark hair. He held his pen like a dagger at her face, teeth exposing in a grimace.

"Absolutely not. We will not make another plague, no matter how desperate the situation gets. I will not stain my hands with such foul research either."

Diana held up her hands. "Very well. I understand your reluctance."

"Disgust is more appropriate a word, but the point has been made."

Nikon leaned against the window frame, sighing as he breathed out another puff of smoke. "…Diana?"

"Hmm? Yes doctor?"

"You were in the guard, were you not?"

Diana nodded. "Yes, I was a captain before being transferred to you. I always wanted to be a doctor, but refrained such things due to my womanhood."

"Ah, yes, and that would attract unsavory glances from the backwards idiots in the Abbey, yes."

"Why are you curious, doctor?"

Nikon put out his cigarette on the frame, a habit that had already marred it considerably with ash and burn stains, and put his hands in his pockets. "I realize I am not the most…charismatic person to work under, for lack of a better term. I hold myself and those around me to a very high ideal, and I have proven to be…vain and aloof to others. I guess it is only natural I question why you tolerate such things instead of simply returning to your previous career."

"My previous career was looking pretty in a uniform and saluting when ordered," argued Diana cynically, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "My position was ceremonial at best, a monument to the 'growing tolerance' of society, but really a fabrication to appease bored housewives and tell their daughters about while scrubbing dishes."

Nikon let out a small chuckle. "Wow, and I thought I was critical of others."

"Not critical, honest," countered his assistant. She gave him a small smile. "So, to answer your question doctor, I work for you because it's actual work. It's challenging at times, yes, and dealing with you has proven to be akin to smacking oneself in the face with a shovel, but I have grown numb to it in time, and I daresay I wouldn't want to put the shovel down at this point."

"Well that's certainly good to hear, though the shovel analogy is troubling," murmured the surgeon. "Regardless, I am grateful you enjoy working at least in this lab, albeit not necessarily while I am in it as well."

He paused, hearing some commotion from outside the window. He glanced out, scanning the courtyard below facing the front of the building. He saw a squadron of High Judge Kalin's guards approach, led by a captain, walk up to the front door of the building.

"…something doesn't feel right…" whispered Nikon, a feeling of dread running down his spine.

He saw the guards in front of Kuznetsov's manor talk to the new arrivals, and both sides appeared to be getting consistently irritated with the other. It was at that moment Nikon noticed that Kalin's group was carrying weapons.

"Oh no…"

The captain of Kalin's group finally decided to skip the remainder of the formalities, pulling out his pistol and planting a slug right in the guard's forehead. The blast rang like a cacophonous funeral chime across the manor, Nikon feeling the shot in his very bones.

"Get down!" screamed Nikon as he dove under the table, immediately knocking over a tray of instruments.

"Doctor, what is it?!" asked Diana in a panic, startled by his sudden movements and shouting.

"Kalin's men are shooting! We have to get out of here!"

Diana nodded, still panicking but trying to think rationally. "Uh…the backdoor!"

"We're on the third floor! By the time we get there, we'll be surrounded and shot!"

The door to the laboratory opened, one of Kalin's guards stepping through. He was carrying a sword and a pistol, the second one being pointed at Nikon.

"Freeze!" ordered the man sternly.

Diana grabbed a nearby beaker and threw it at him.

The glass beaker slammed into his head, shattering it and cutting his face to ribbons as he roared in pain. He fired his pistol blindly into the air, planting a bullet in the ceiling and raining chunks of dust onto them.

Nikon tackled him and got him to the floor, punching him repeatedly in the face. The man blocked one of his punches with his forearm and punched right back, knocking Nikon off and sending him sprawling.

The guard got onto one knee and lunged with his sword.

The surgeon fell away from the blade just in time to avoid getting skewered, but his lab coat got caught as the blade embedded itself into a nearby bookshelf, pinning him in place.

The guard let go of his sword and backed away, reloading his pistol as quickly as he could.

Nikon grabbed his lab coat in both hands and yanked as hard as he could, shredding it into pieces and freeing him. He threw the tattered cloth at the guard's face, obscuring his sight and giving the surgeon a precious few seconds to think of a way to survive.

"Diana, bottle!" shouted the surgeon.

Diana grabbed the nearest glass container, tossing it to him across the table. Nikon glanced at the glass of alcohol antiseptic, noting how it was almost completely full, and grinned. This would do perfectly.

He uncorked the top, waited a second, then slammed his hand down onto the opening to act as a pseudo-lid.

Immediately, the bottle jerked downward in his hand, creating a small pocket of void at the bottom of the bottle. The alcohol inside eventually caught up with the glass and careened into the void with remarkable voice, hitting the seam where the sides and bottom of the glass had been melted into place, the weakest part of the bottle. The bottom flew clean off and poured the liquid all over the carpet, leaving a deadly bladed glass in his hand.

The guard just managed to remove the cloth from around his eyes when Nikon lunged at him, stabbing him clean in the throat with the jagged glass. The guard gargled on his blood as he cried out, but the surgeon was already on him, plunging the glass again and again into the man's neck, slamming him into the opposite wall as he worked him over.

Nikon left the glass in the man's throat as he sank to the floor, blood soaked into his white lab coat and black undershirt. He was panting heavily, slightly trembling.

"Doctor…?" whispered Diana slightly fearfully.

He turned, before wiping the blood from his face. "It's fine, Diana. I've done this before, after all."

He ripped the man's sword out of the bookshelf, grabbing his gun as well and handing it to his assistant. "I'm assuming you remember how to use this, right?"

Diana nodded, reloading the gun properly and sliding a few spare bullets into her lab coat. "We cannot take all of those men on, doctor. There's only two of us."

"Obviously," grunted Nikon cleaning the sword on his sleeve. "We can't go downstairs, and we only have the roof to go to."

He paused, an idea springing into his head. "There's an apartment complex nearby, right? There's a small street between it, right?"

"Yes," replied Diana, then her eyes widened. "Doctor, that's a ten-foot gap. You're not an acrobat."

"I am today, as I'm not a one-man army," argued the surgeon.

"Doctor, _I'm_ not an acrobat."

Nikon glanced at her skeptically. "If the options are dying or jumping, what would you pick?"

"Either seems disadvantageous when both can lead to death."

"Well you can ruminate over which option you'd rather pick while I get to the roof."

Nikon entered the hallway, looking down over the edge of the door to make sure it was empty. He quickly moved down the hall, keeping low to the ground with his sword out in front of him. He barely glanced beside him, noting Diana was following him.

"Decided to defy death?" asked the surgeon blandly.

"Not the time for sarcasm, doctor," snapped Diana mildly annoyed. "I have to watch your back, after all."

Nikon smirked. "Fair enough."

They moved towards the ladder to the roof, noting how there were two guards standing near it. The surgeon cursed, hiding his body behind a corner.

"Shit…we have to fight," snapped the surgeon.

Diana nodded, cocking the pistol. "I'll take one of them out. You charge the second."

Nikon gave a thumb-ups to approve. "Fine then, let's go."

The two moved in unison, the surgeon sprinting down the hall as fast as his legs could carry him, his assistant aiming carefully and pulling the trigger.

The two guards jumped as the bullet smashed into a nearby vase, before noticing the surgeon charging them.

"You suck!" shouted Nikon back over his shoulder, swinging at the first guard in an overhand chop.

The guard dodged the strike and swung with his sword, only a quick step from the surgeon preventing it from slicing open his chest.

The second leveled his pistol at Nikon, but the surgeon backhanded the gun out of the man's grip, releasing another deafening blast through the building as the bullet released hit a window and shattered the glass.

Nikon slashed the second guard in the stomach with his sword, splitting open his stomach and sending his intestines spilling out onto the floor in a waterfall of gore.

"Holy shit!" exclaimed the first guard horrified.

Nikon tackled him into the nearby wall, stepping back to swing at his neck. The guard blocked the attack with his sword, his reflexes far faster than his comrade. He roared in anger and swung upwards like a golf club, hitting the surgeon right in the arm and knocking the sword clean out of his hand.

"Fuck!" shouted Nikon grabbing his arm, backing up as the guard took advantage of his injury and began slashing at him wildly. He was backed into a wall, eyes widening in panic.

The surgeon dropped to the ground, sliding both of his legs out as fast as they can go and hitting the guard in the knees. The guard hit the ground hard, groaning pain but keeping his sword in hand. He lunged at the surgeon, the blade glistening in the afternoon light.

Nikon barely evaded the attack, the sword cutting across his temple and sending blood gushing down the side of his face. He grabbed the man with both arms, the two of them rolling around on the floor and trying to be the one on top.

"Fucking asshole!" roared the guard.

"Rude!" snapped the surgeon, finally deciding he had enough of this fight. He dove forward with his teeth, chomping down hard on the man's face and shredding his cheek into nothing.

The guard screamed in pain and elbowed him in the stomach, scrambling to his feet while Nikon held his belly in agony.

Then Diana fired her pistol, blowing the guard's head clean off.

Nikon stood up, panting and holding his stomach. "Couldn't…have done that…sooner…?"

"Didn't want to hit you," argued his assistant. "And you're welcome."

"Yes, yes, thank you. Now come on, they definitely heard that commotion."

Nikon grabbed the man's pistol, noting how the first guard was barely alive, on his side bleeding and holding his intestines in with his hands.

The surgeon glanced at the injury, noting how it was definitely lethal even with immediate medical assistance.

Nikon twirled his sword in his hand, before plunging it clean through the man's head via left eye socket. The man immediately stopped moving, Nikon withdrawing the sword streaked with brain matter.

"Best not to let you suffer," reasoned the surgeon wiping the blade clean.

He paused, hearing a variety of footsteps coming from the nearby stairwell. "Damn, they move fast."

He climbed the ladder two rungs at a time, helping Diana up as she climbed after him. They ran to the edge of the roof, noting the distance between the manor and the abandoned apartment building close by, and more importantly the distance between their current position and the ground.

"Oh crap, I can't do this," whispered Diana terrified.

"Well best you get over that, because those men behind us are quite angry," stated Nikon. He took several deep breathes, then sprinted off the edge.

The surgeon slammed clean through an empty window and landing on hard floor, groaning in pain as his pounding headache got worse and worse. The blood from his head wound was now beginning to leak into his eye and making it far more difficult to see or perceive distance, and so Diana was more of a blur on the other roof when he glanced back.

"Come on Diana, goddamn it!" he shouted. "You've done far stupider things than this with much less hesitation!"

Suddenly voices shouted from behind the assistant, Diana turning in fear. "Doctor, they're on the roof!"

"Jump, now!" commanded Nikon sternly.

Diana took several steps back to prepare herself, but a crossbow bolt slammed clean into her right leg. She screamed in pain, clutching at the black metal rod in her calf. "Doctor! Go!"

Nikon smashed his fist into the window frame, teeth gritted hard enough to make them ache. "Diana! I will find you! Keep yourself alive!"

"You too doctor, now go!"

The guards overtook her then, the assistant desperately trying to fight them off to no avail. Some of them noticed Nikon and fired at him, but the surgeon was already moving away from the window.

"You stupid…" whispered Nikon, before groaning in frustration. "I have to find her and get her back. I'm nothing without my assistant."

He heard noises coming from behind a door, leveling his pistol at it with shaking hands. He could hardly hit anything accurately, but even at this range he could hit a human target.

Two people charged into the room, stopping dead upon seeing his gun. One of them, the man, held up his hands, while the woman did not, aiming her pistol right back at him.

"Whoa, just relax buddy," stated the man calmly. "No need to go crazy."

"Yeah, relax," ordered the woman with a voice like steel. "Else I'll put a hole in your head."

Nikon took a few breathes, debated his options, then lowered his gun. He felt himself getting lightheaded, realizing that the cut from earlier had clearly been deeper than he had anticipated.

"You're not…Kalin…" whispered the surgeon.

"No, we're not," spoke the man reassuringly. "You from Kuznetsov's manor? That means you're a witness."

"Yeah…they started shooting…my assistant…I have to…find her…"

Nikon collapsed against an end table, the two of them grabbing him by the arms and helping him up.

"Easy killer, not a good time for rescuing princesses," spoke the woman with a steel edge to her voice. "We got to get you to a doctor."

Nikon decided mentioning that he was technically a surgeon was unneeded, especially because he was focusing solely on not passing out. His vision began to darken, the surgeon noting how he was not only going into shock but was beginning to lose consciousness.

"Oh crap…" murmured the surgeon before completely blacking out.


	2. Chapter 2: Take Back What Is Mine

Nikon woke up and left like he had been stabbed in the face.

He groaned and grabbed at his face, immediately discerning that he was bandaged and that it needed to be changed, likely a few hours late. He felt the sticky blood leaking through the cloth, his fingers pulling away red and seemingly drawing more agony out of the wound they were covering.

"Fucking hell, this hurts," grunted the surgeon, rubbing the old blood between his fingers. "That guard must've cut down to the bone. I'll be getting a scar from this, definitely."

He looked around the room he was in, noting how it was a ramshackle of a hospital room with various cots set up along the outer walls. None of them were occupied at the moment, which was likely for the best. He knew of how quickly infection and other diseases spread amongst such close quarters, and that it was only recently the general public was becoming aware of such things.

"Obviously I'm not in a company of top minds," grunted Nikon dryly.

He saw a nearby roll of bandages on the table beside him and grabbed it, unwinding a coil. He paused, realizing such a task was pointless without a pair of scissors, before noting a small razor blade closely as well.

"Well it's crude, but it'll do."

He cut a length of bandage out and began winding it around his head, knowing that removing the old one would simply reopen the clot forming over the wound. He checked his reflection in the blade, noting how rough and dirty he was.

"I look like death warmed over," noted the surgeon. "Great. Looks like now would be a bad time to hit the dating scene."

That thought spawned another, one far more important and less humorous. He pictured Diana's face, immediately trying to sit up but failing in panic. He quickly realized excessive movement was exactly what he should avoid, lest accidentally open the wound, but he could not avoid the clawing anxiety in his stomach.

"Damn it…I lost my assistant," whispered the surgeon gritting his teeth. "I have to find her…"

He stood up, steadying himself as best he could against the nearby wall. "First things first…have to find those who rescued me…figure out a plan from there."

Nikon exited the room, noticing how the entire structure seemed to be both made of concrete and surprisingly warm. It may seem abandoned by the level of dirt and most of the furniture made from scraps, but it was surely not condemned.

"It would appear I have either been abducted by thieves or beggars. This does not bode well for me."

He reached for his cigarettes, before immediately noticing that they were not there.

"Guess that narrows it down to thieves."

The surgeon passed by several other rooms, most marked with one-word descriptions to their functions, and began to notice a pattern. Many of the rooms appeared military in nature, most appearing to be marked with weaponry or explosives.

"Well-armed thieves too," murmured Nikon sarcastically.

He finally got to a staircase, slowly going up each step. He began to hear sounds of conversation above him, dozens of voices emitting from the door up ahead. It got louder the closer he got, and the actual tone of the conversations seemed boisterous but friendly.

"I smell…baking bread, and wine…" whispered the surgeon. "I must be in some kind of tavern."

He grabbed the doorknob, debating about what would happen when he turned it. The two people from earlier had clearly brought him here and someone had patched up his injuries, so he was at least in friendly company. He had no money, no research, and no cigarettes, so he could hardly barter for his medical aid, and he most likely knew absolutely no one in this group he had been rescued by.

All in all, he was in a strange spot.

"Fuck it, I've already cheated death once. What's once more?"

He opened the door.

He was immediately hit a barrage of noises, each one enough to create a minor headache but altogether creating a giant maelstrom of pain in his skull. He stumbled back a few feet into the stairwell, narrowly avoiding a bumbling bus boy coming along with a tray full of dishes and cups. The entire room was full of dining patrons, drinking a breakfast platter of bread and fresh fruit with wine to spare.

"Goddamn, maybe I should've stayed in the cot," grunted the surgeon grasping at his head.

Someone at a far table stood up, smiling pleasantly at him across the room. He was tall and lean, with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to act as blades when he looked into them. His smile seemed genuine enough, but his eyes told the real story, that of a predator waiting. Waiting for what, he could not determine, but it was clear the man was faking his casual walk and approach.

"The great Doctor Nikon, a pleasure!" shouted the man over the din, extending a hand.

Nikon shook it out of politeness sake, noting how the man's flesh was incredibly warm, almost hot to the touch.

"Pleasure is hardly the word for it, considering my head," noted the surgeon bluntly, deciding not to mince words in unsure company. "My head feels like someone's driving nails into it."

The blue-eyed stranger nodded, that small smile never wavering. "Yes, I imagine the noise is quite discordant. Please, allow me to take you to a more private chamber."

"As long as I can have a cigarette, fine by me," stated Nikon. "I take it you took those as payment for my medical bills."

The blue-eyed stranger laughed, taking him up a nearby staircase to the second floor of the building. "Yes, yes, my men are a bit…covetous. I will get you some more, do not worry doctor."

"Your men?" repeated the surgeon. "Are you a general?"

"No, at least not yet," stated the man. He smiled at him, though it again held no warmth. "I must choose my words carefully around you, doctor. You are quite perceptive."

Nikon decided that was the polite way of being told to mind his damn business and stop prying, so he concluded he would keep being a nosy jackass as much as possible simply to amuse himself.

"I have to be perceptive, it is my job after all," argued Nikon. "So, tell me, why a tavern? Seems like a weird place for…whatever it is you are doing."

"It's cliché, I know, but it works," countered the blue-eyed stranger. "We're out of the way, and no one pays us any mind."

" _He doesn't want to be found,"_ noted the surgeon internally. _"Obviously criminal. Maybe they're thieves? Would explain a lot. But why all the ceremony? Hmph, made myself laugh. All big-time thieves are melodramatic. But why save my life?"_

They walked up to an office where four other people waited, each one as odd as the blue-eyed stranger. The first was a woman who dressed like a whore, and seemed to play the part judging by the flirtatious wink she gave him. The second looked like the type who smashed bricks to pieces with his face considering how ugly he was, and looked about as intelligent as the bricks he smashed. The third was covered head to toe in bandages like a burn victim, and seemed to be neither man nor woman. And finally, the fourth man looked like he was at a nobleman's party despite being in a filthy hovel, dressed in a golden coat with a masquerade mask.

"Ah, the good doctor," spoke the woman smiling and fanning herself with a small feathered fan. "You look well, considering the last I saw you was bleeding on an operating table."

"More like a butcher's," grunted the large man. "I've seen men do better jobs with their feet."

"Now, now, Irving, don't criticize my girls. The most they do is patch each other's cuts and bruises when our clients get a little too grabby. They can hardly compare to one of the best surgeons in Tyvia."

"I got patched up by a whore?" asked Nikon slightly offended.

"To be fair, she's a very smart whore," noted the man known as Irving. "Best there is, really."

"Oh Irving, you always flatter me," jested the woman smirking. "Next you'll tell me I can have all the stars in the sky and fly in a chariot made of rainbows and fairy dust."

"Well, at least I didn't die on the table," spoke the surgeon rubbing his head. "So, who are these people and why are they important to me?"

The blue-eyed stranger sat at the desk, pointing to each individual member. "The whore, as you so politely said, is Miss Gretzky. The man built like a bear is Irving Boyd, while the bandaged fellow is Shrike, and the golden man is Lord Alexey Urarov."

"The politician?" asked Nikon raising an eyebrow. "Last I heard you tried to run for council member. Considering what happened to Kuznetsov, your failure likely saved your life."

"Well that sure is encouraging," stated the golden man with a voice dripping with sarcasm.

The blue-eyed stranger smirked, sliding over a tin of cigarettes to the surgeon. "Dr. Nikon, I'm not going to lie to you. We rescued you because we require two items from you. The first is simple. We need your story of what happened at council member Kuznetsov's manor, specifically the attack by Secretary Kalin's men."

"What parts?" asked Nikon lighting a cigarette. "I didn't exactly see the attack coming, nor did I anticipate such hostile actions from Secretary Kalin. I'm as surprised as you all are, probably less so judging by those notes on the table."

The bandaged one known as Shrike glanced at him, revealing that their face was obscured by a pair of large snow goggles. "You can read native Tyvian?"

"Of course, I can," snapped the surgeon. "I'm a native too. I can read and write in Tyvian, though I far prefer Gristol's common tongue. Those notes, by the way, mention that you've begun to connect Kalin with various aggressive actions against other council members. The robbery of council member Botkin's private bank accounts, the facial disfiguring by acid of Rosya, even the vandalism of Nemirov's manor…you've found a common connection to all of them."

The blue eyed stranger nodded. "Yes, we've begun to see a pattern. If you could see the other papers, you'd notice we also have connected Secretary Taren and Cushing to several other acts committed against other council members. They were done over the course of a few years, making them seem sporadic, but I've noticed them. There are no coincidences in this world, I am sure you know that."

Nikon couldn't help but agree, sitting down at the other chair at the table. "Well color me interested. I always knew politicians were backstabbing bastards, but this seems a bit more direct than what I was expecting. Why are the Secretaries doing this?"

"Scare tactics. Someone screws with you, someone you don't know, and suddenly here come the Secretary's men to save the day, bringing you the heads of those 'responsible', when in reality they were setting up the situation in the first place. In gratitude, you agree to whatever your savior wants."

"And yet they openly attack Kuznetsov without trying to hide it," spoke Irving. "Which means either they're getting impatient or Kuznetsov wasn't so easy to intimidate."

"I'd point to the second," stated the surgeon. "Kuznetsov was a moron, but he was far from weak-willed. So now they'll replace him with some good little lapdog for Kalin. That's concerning enough, but I wonder…"

He rubbed his chin. "That attack on the compound was very well-organized from what I saw, but what concerns me is that they sent a man specifically to find me. They knew exactly where I was and made sure to send a soldier."

"Were they trying to kill you?" asked Alexey.

"No, at least not intentionally," deduced Nikon. "He told me to freeze, and he didn't shoot me immediately. In fact, none of the guards I fought were very…good at it, for lack of a better word."

"To be fair, guards in this city apparently test hammers by slamming them into their skulls, considering how dumb they are," noted Shrike.

"Maybe they wanted you alive," proposed Miss Gretzky, sipping a glass of bourbon. "Your research is something such cold-hearted bastards would be interested in. Gas weaponry could completely revolutionize warfare."

"I was hoping it would destroy it," grunted the surgeon angrily, already thinking of how his work could be abused by cruel dictators. "It's not even close to complete. I haven't found a solution that's not barbaric or cruel, but I take it these men aren't concerned about that."

The blue-eyed stranger raised an eyebrow. "No, definitely not. They have likely secured your research to aid with their efforts, and most likely hoped to recruit you. However, they got your assistant instead, didn't they?"

"Diana understands enough of it. She can easily complete it on her own in a matter of months," spoke Nikon calmly. "She may have been just an assistant, but she is far from idiotic."

"High praise from you," murmured Miss Gretzky sarcastically.

"So, it would be good for us to secure this assistant of yours," noted Shrike, tapping a black charred finger against the desk. "Thankfully, we have an idea on where she is."

Nikon glanced at the rest of the papers on the desk, noticing there was a blueprint laid across the surface with handwritten notes on it pointing out various points of interest on the map.

"This is the guard barracks for Secretary Kalin," explained the blue-eyed stranger. "Your assistant will likely be held there for the next few days so they can determine how much she knows and how they can utilize her."

"Likely?" repeated the surgeon. "You can't confirm that?"

"My scouts are good, but they can only see so much," argued Shrike. "We have reconnaissance on the building constantly, but they've already snuck out from under our noses before. I believe Kalin's men are using the sewers to move about."

"The thing is, there is a concrete goal we require for you to perform," stated the blue-eyed stranger. "One of our operatives was captured during your rescue. Your job is to find her and fire off a signal for us, upon which we'll create a diversion for you to escape."

"Me? I'm just a surgeon. I'm no soldier."

Shrike glanced at him. "You weren't always a surgeon."

Nikon looked at the figure curiously, before immediately catching on and his face twisting into a scowl.

"That was an accident," swore the surgeon. "I never meant what happened. I was a petty thief, yes, living from mouthful to mouthful, but I was no killer until that night, and I dislike having to do it again."

"This is your best chance of finding your assistant," argued the blue-eyed stranger offering a small smile that didn't go past his mouth. "After they move her, we'll have little idea of what they plan on her or where they're going with her. At least this way you can find out for yourself."

Nikon glared at him intensely, debating the decision in his mind. However, no matter what angle he approached it from made the stranger's claim false. He had to go and find out what happened to Diana, no matter what.

"Very well," said the surgeon leaning forward, glancing at the map. "I'll need a day or two more to heal properly before I set out. I'll also need equipment."

The blue-eyed stranger grinned, having caught his prey. "Of course. Irving, the box."

The large man grabbed a crate, placing it down on the table and removing items from it.

"Standard stuff. Sword, pistol, wristbow, grenades, springrazors…"

"Lots of loud things," grunted the surgeon. "I had hoped to do this quietly."

"Best to be prepared for anything," argued Irving. He smirked, picking up the sword. "Oh, and I think you'll like this."

He held up the blade, pointing to a small trigger near the handle similar to a pistol. "We modified this sword to give you a bit of an edge in combat."

He pulled the trigger, the blade suddenly sparking with lightning. "Stab a guy with this and give him a dose of thunder to knock him to the floor. Also, it'll destroy any electronic equipment you stab it into, like alarms or Walls of Light, so you won't have to worry about someone fixing them like you would with a Rewire Tool. Oh, and you'll need this."

Irving removed a white mask from the box, holding it up so the doctor could see. It looked like an archaic plague doctor mask, the beak stark white and the leather around it pitch black. It had been adapted with a gas mask filter on either side of the mouth, and the glass for the eyes was tinted to be reflective.

"We decided, with your research being about gas-based weaponry, it might not hurt for you to wear something to protect you from any enemies that try to use it against you. We made sure this works on all known gas agents, but with your research we can improve it later if you wish.

Nikon grabbed the mask, raising an eyebrow at the design. "Interesting."

He set it down. "Also, I will require detailed reported on the men inside this facility. How many are present, what are their arms, are there any guard rotations I should know? Are there people of interest I should avoid or terminate?"

The blue-eyed stranger nodded, grabbing a nearby stack of paper and setting it down before the doctor. "That last question is one I can answer. First, there's a captain we want you to terminate. Her name is Anna Morozov, and she also lead the attack against Kuznetsov's manor. She is dangerous in a fight, and it'd be best to get her out of the way."

He leaned forward, a look of grave concern washing over his face. "Second, there are the potential for four possible persons of interest to appear here, all four of which you must make a great effort to avoid. They are Kalin's bodyguards, and he occasionally sends one or two to his barracks to check up on his men. If he does, you cannot engage with them. They are trained killers, and do not show any mercy."

"How is that different from the others in this building?" asked the surgeon.

Shrike picked up with the explanation. "We have reason to believe that these men have powers from the Outsider, as judging by reports from survivors, and they all share one common ability that even I find baffling. They seem to have the ability to sense when one of their own is in danger and aid them, appearing as if from nowhere to help their comrade. All four of them have been shown to do this, and it makes it incredibly hard to take them out one on one. In the five years we've began studying them, we have only injured one of them, and that was with fairly minor scrapes and cuts."

The surgeon nodded, knowing a little of the Outsider and the Void but not really understanding it. He knew it was an occult practice and involved powers beyond scientific explanation, though he wasn't enough of a skeptic to deny they existed. He had heard tales from the guards of men who could seemingly dash over meters in an instant or seemingly stop time, but had not personally seen it.

"I do not intend to fight four highly trained killers at one time," argued Nikon. "If I know their faces, I shall do my best to avoid them."

The blue-eyed stranger smirked. "I should hope you avoid them. I've lost good men to those bastards, and I'd hate to lose one of my best finds."

"Finds?" asked the surgeon narrowing his eyes. "I am not one of your men. I am simply trying to rescue my assistant and take back what is mine. I do not care about what you want. Speaking of which, what do you want? Who are you?"

The blue-eyed stranger leaned back in his chair, the fire in his eyes turning into an inferno. "Who I am is Prince Kallisar of Tyvia, rightful heir to this island. And what I want is what is rightfully mine. So, in a way, I guess we both are just men trying to get what we deserve."

Nikon let the name work through his brain, remembering that Kallisar was the name of the most popular and feared Prince currently trying to overthrow the government. He was stated to be exceptionally charismatic and powerful, strong enough to take on ten men and lead a thousand into battle. But there was one nugget of information that he remembered first and foremost, and it was just annoying enough that he simply had to say it.

"Wasn't there a pornographic play made about you?" asked the surgeon calmly.


	3. Chapter 3: Nothing but An Anomaly

Nikon opened his eyes and immediately knew something was wrong.

He sat up and looked around, feeling the lack of bandages around his face. He grabbed a nearby razor blade, studying his face and noting the presence of a huge scar over his forehead in the exact place the sword had cut.

"There's no way I healed that quickly," he whispered shaking his head. "Something else is going on."

He looked around, noting that the room was incredibly dark and cold, the lantern normally on the far side of the room completely absent. Something else was suspiciously gone, and he didn't realize it until a few seconds of observation.

"…it's too quiet," he grunted. "No generator, no conversation, not even footsteps or the scratching of rats. That's it, something is wrong."

He got onto his feet, moving quickly over to the door. He stopped his hand inches from the metal knob, feeling a sense of unease deep in his stomach.

"Well, let's just rip off the bandage," snapped the surgeon. "I grow tired of weariness."

He opened the door.

He took a step back in shock at what he saw, his eyes quickly snapping all over the image he was seeing but could not believe. His mind brought forth rationalizations and reasons, but each was hollow and illogical.

The abyss before him ate into the hallway, fragments of the wood and steel floating around the wound. Around it, black stones were scattered like bullet shards, mingling with the chunks of hallway in a perplexing pattern of destruction.

"…fucking hell, I died and went to fucking hell."

He kicked one of the black stones, noting that it immediately lost all momentum when it broke contact with his foot.

"And apparently physics went to heaven," grunted the surgeon.

He walked to the edge of the original hallway, noticing that some of the black stones were gathering near his feet to form a makeshift walkway. They did not shy away from his touch, and remained steady.

"Well, it would appear that someone is intending me to follow this path."

Then he immediately turned around and walked back to his bed. He laid back in it, glancing up at the ceiling for several minutes.

"…shit, my body is unable to fall back asleep," stated the surgeon matter-of-factly. "It would appear that whoever is in control here really does want me to meet with him or her."

He gritted his teeth, walking back into the end of the hallway. "Alright you son of a bitch, or just regular bitch depending upon your gender, I say we are long overdue for a meeting."

He took a step on one of the black stones, noting how it was capable of holding his weight without complaint. Deciding that was good enough, he kept walking, moving at a brisk pace.

Nikon began to realize he was approaching some sort of black island in the enormous abyss before him, its entire constitution composed of black stones. It got bigger as he approached it, until it resembled the size of an actual island.

"Whoever is doing this must be there," he concluded logically. "Perfect."

He reached the island, the path behind him dissolving into dust. He didn't even look back, scanning around the landscape before him.

"Alright, I've followed your little trail!" shouted the surgeon. "Come on out! I grow tired of these games!"

He saw a figure in the distance, so far away he could barely see them as a speck on the horizon. He couldn't even tell the gender of the figure or what they looked like, a black dot far in the distance.

"Hey, you! Yeah, you! I see you, you mysterious little freak! Why won't you come here and introduce yourself?"

The figure immediately disappeared, an instant before Nikon realized the figure was now right in front of him, put into hyper-focus due to his proximity.

"Certainly," spoke the figure in an echoing voice, like millions spoke at once.

Nikon recoiled, eyes widening in panic. He raised his fists to strike, though he quickly lowered them when he realized this figure had made no moves towards him.

"…who are you?" asked the surgeon.

The figure rolled his eyes, both of them so full of darkness they seemed to swallow all nearby light. "I get asked that question a lot, so you may forgive me if I find it a bit tiresome. Take a wild guess who I am."

Nikon mulled over the possibilities in his head, quickly deducing through each one. God? Unlikely, as the being before him clearly did not have control over his actions or thoughts like that of a deity. Devil? Equally unlikely. Bad visions due to possible laced food? Possible, and was a fairly decent option until a new one came around.

"Well, due to the firsthand reports I've read and the exact parameters of your features being reproduced extensively, I can only conclude we are inside the Void, which means you are the Outsider."

The Outsider smiled, clapping his hands once. "Splendid, doctor. It's good to see you are not a complete fool."

He glanced at him oddly. "Although…you are remarkably calm about this. Most people tend to find my presence…distressing."

Nikon shrugged. "I am not religious, nor am I atheistic. I have the sincerest belief in a creator deity, but I hold no delusions that you are it, nor that you are some sort of opposed destroyer deity. Simply put, I think you're nothing but an anomaly."

"Hmph, you're little fun," noted the Outsider with a grimace. "Anomaly…first time I've been labeled that."

He disappeared for a second, only to reappear on top of a nearby rock. "You're always so cool and collected, doctor, always in control. And yet, the rug was pulled out from under you."

He reappeared again next to him, smirking. "You attended the showiest parties, danced with the prettiest gals, and now look at you. Slumming around with the scum of society, barely surviving at all. You lost your job, your research, and your assistant."

"What do you want?" snapped the surgeon impatiently.

The Outsider grinned, holding both of his hands out to his sides. "Entertainment. I dislike being bored, and so desire to alleviate said boredom if at all possible. And you, doctor, are my latest attempt at doing so."

Nikon glared at him, a thought creeping into his brain. "You arranged this, didn't you? You creepy little freak, always pulling your strings and weaving your webs…you made this whole situation possible, with me losing everything? You're the reason I lost Diana."

"Technically, a man named Nicholas Popov is the reason," argued the Outsider. "You likely never heard of him, as he was a simple cobbler who could barely afford the horse that pulled his cart. He had children, and those children had children, and eventually one of them became High Judge Kalin. I could be technical and go back even further, but my range only extends so far into the past. Also, I tend to forget trivialities."

"Funny, considering I regard you as one," snapped the surgeon coldly.

"Now, now, no need to be rude. I come bearing gifts. First, the gift of information."

He vanished into flying shadows, reappearing next to what looked like a chunk of reality placed into the Void. It was an incomplete concrete room with a table in the center, three people seated across it, although only two in the room clearly wanted to be there. The third person was covered in bruises and cuts, likely from the punches inflicted by the large woman with the bloody metal rings on her fingers.

"Holy hell, that's Diana," whispered Nikon shocked, barely able to recognize his assistant through the red welts on her face. "What are they doing to her?"

He glanced at the notes on the table, immediately realizing what they were doing. "They're trying to get her to explain the research…"

He tightened his fists, glaring at the woman who clearly had been beating his assistant. He recognized her from the case file Kallisar had given him, the captain of the guard for Secretary Kalin. "Anna Morozov…your days are fucking numbered."

He glanced at the remaining person in the room, recognizing him immediately. "Secretary Kalin? What is your interest in my research?"

"You speak to yourself a lot, don't you?" asked the Outsider smirking. "More importantly, can you tolerate what he is doing to your research?"

"Since I don't know what he is doing, I can hardly find it intolerable," stated the surgeon blankly, realizing that the Outsider was trying to provoke him into an emotional response.

"Hmm, and here I was thinking you were a cut above the rest, doctor. What can you assume he is doing?"

Nikon picked up one of the pieces of paper, realizing it was a recent experiment he had performed with chlorine gas. He gripped the paper tightly, gritting his teeth. "…he's going to try and make bombs out of this. Any rebellions that try and get started, like Prince Kallisar and his little gang of misfits, will be saturated with burning smoke and swiftly be eliminated."

The Outsider smiled, though the smile he held seemed to indicate he knew more than he was letting on. "And if this little scene continues too long, Diana will be directly responsible for this."

The surgeon glared at him, his eyes furious. "Never. Diana would never compromise her beliefs due to simple pain. She's a lot tougher than I am, after all."

"You have a lot of faith in her," observed the Outsider.

"I have to. A surgeon is only as good as his assistant."

He turned to Diana, reaching out a hand but not touching her. "Diana…just you wait. I'll get you back, I promise."

She and the entire scene turned to blackness, Nikon stepping back in recoil as it reformed around him into a new one. This one was very familiar to the surgeon, the scene where he had talked with Prince Kallisar and his cohorts, but a new detail was visible from this angle. Prince Kallisar had a mark around the back of his right hand, the exact same mark everyone identified as that of the Outsider.

"Oh great, and now he's a freak too," noted the surgeon dryly. "And here I thought someone with amazing charisma and uncanny manipulation of other people hadn't been touched by the Void. That's just great."

"To be fair, the powers I gave him were less involved with politics and more of the…violent sort. Let's just say that play about him making a remark about his hot skin isn't an exaggeration and leave it at that."

He smirked, sliding a hand across the table. "Well regardless, he seemed to convince you, didn't he? A noble Prince, banished from his rightful throne…it's rather quixotic, isn't it doctor?"

"I do not concern myself with fantasy," snapped Nikon harshly. "His little rebellion means nothing to me, barely worth noticing. My only concern is Diana, and her safety. I will get her back, no matter what I have to do."

The Outsider suddenly appeared before him, boring into his head with black eyes. Apparently, something in that last sentence had triggered a response from him, and clearly one that excited him by his higher tone. "Really? No matter what? You would sacrifice anything to make sure she is safe and well?"

Nikon glared at him, realizing the ploy for what it was. "Are you baiting me, Outsider? I am not some idiotic noble who summoned you out of morbid curiosity, nor am I a desperate beggar wishing for a better life. You summoned me, not the reverse. I will not be entangled with your silly word games."

"I don't wish to deceive you, doctor," argued the Outsider carefully, each word selected after a split-second delay. "I merely wish to understand, so I ask questions. I find you a curiosity. You are a doctor, which means you save lives, and yet you take them with alarming calm. I find that odd."

Nikon rolled his eyes. "They tried to kill me, so I killed them. Humans do not work off predator/prey relationships like the rest of nature. Even the weakest man can fight back against those who would wrong him. I won't lose an ounce of sleep for killing those who did me harm."

The Outsider nodded. "An understandable philosophy. But what happens when that cycle goes back around to you? Those men had families, and what if their spouses or children decide to follow your same philosophy? It may take a while, perhaps decades after the fact, but they will know you ended the life of the person closest to them. You may not see it doctor, but I do. Time and time again, it happens in this world, an endless cycle of revenge and hatred that spills enough blood to fill the sea twice over. Are you saying that does not concern you?"

Nikon waved the thought away. "If it comes back around to me, it will end there. Diana holds no sentiment for me, and I have no family or offspring to speak of. I hold no fear for future retribution."

The Outsider stroked his chin, pondering over his response. "Interesting…perfectly logical of course, but something else strikes me about you doctor. I cannot help but feel as if you are insincere, as if there are two answers to that question, both of which you have given."

Nikon raised his eyebrows, completely lost. "No idea what you mean by that. Two answers…are you implying this conversation has happened before?"

"No, I remember everything, it is what I do best. It's like…"

He stopped, the Outsider glancing to the side. "Oh…now that really is interesting."

Nikon looked off to the same place, noticing the Outsider was staring at a distant island across the Void.

"…okay, what am I looking at?" asked the surgeon.

"Oh, right, you can't see that. Well, I guess now's as good a time as any."

Nikon grunted in pain, grabbing his left hand and staring at it in shock. Flames were emerging from under his skin, lines running through the flesh and charring it black. When it finished, he was staring at the mark of the Outsider, etched right into his skin.

"Hey asshole, I didn't agree to this!" shouted the surgeon waving his hand at him aggressively. "Take it off!"

"Now, now, hear me out," said the Outsider holding up his hands. "If you want to rescue Diana, you're going to need my help. Besides, there's something you really need to see."

He immediately disappeared, reappearing at the distant island he had been looking at previously. He was standing right at the edge, extending a hand.

"Come now doctor," ordered the Outsider.

Nikon held out his left hand, extending his fingers, before he noticed something. His two main fingers near his thumb felt heavier than normal, as if something was placed on them. He rubbed the area with his thumb, revealing that some sort of invisible ball was present on his hand, around the size of a golf ball.

"So…I throw it and, what, I catch it where it lands?" guessed the surgeon. He shrugged. "Well, it's only the second craziest thing I've heard all day."

He wound his arm up, taking a few steps back before throwing it as hard as he could across the abyss.

Then he immediately appeared next to the Outsider, holding the 'ball' with a single outstretched hand. He felt the wind wash over him in an instant, reflexively taking a step back from the rush that hit him.

"Whoa…" he whispered. It seemed appropriate, considering nothing else could really describe how he felt.

"Not exactly original," noted the Outsider blandly. He gestured deeper into the island. "There, that rock there. Look into it."

Nikon glanced at the rock, noting something. Unlike all the other stones in the Void, this one was reflective, but not a complete reflection. He saw the Outsider pointing to the wall, and his person standing there, but he looked different. He was wearing a gas mask over his face, and he looked terrified.

The surgeon felt his face grow heavier, and quickly realized his plague doctor mask had been strapped to his face. He looked back at the Outsider, slightly fearful. "Outsider, what is going on? Who is that man?"

The Outsider grinned, a face that sent chills down his spine. "I should that the answer to that question is obvious. Well, I guess you should ask the source of it."

He snapped his fingers, the scene around Nikon wavering like his eyes were adjusting to light. When it had readjusted, he was standing before the gas mask man, about a meter separating them.

The gas mask man took a step back, something in his posture and mannerism familiar. He seemed reluctant to approach, though that response was perfectly natural.

"Uh…hi?" asked the gas mask man with a definite shiver to his voice.

"Hello," replied Nikon calmly, deciding it would be rude to simply ignore him. "Tell me, your voice…you sound…similar to someone I know…"

The gas mask man nodded, as if eager to have an agreeable conversation. "Yes, as do you. I…"

They both paused, realizing a logical connection for their statements. Nikon reached for his mask, and the other did the same.

They removed them, revealing their features. The brown hair, cut short to not interfere with their work. The chocolate eyes, said by many to resemble mud trampled upon by boats. The white skin, pale from hour after hour working in a library or surgical table. The stubble, never fully shaven but maintained just enough for hygiene. The scar down the left side of the lips, a result from a feud with their fathers.

"My God," muttered both of them, knowing exactly what was going on.

Nikon rubbed his face, so confused his mind had completely turned to static. "Wow…this is…are you…real?"

The gas mask Nikon took a step back, clearly offended by the question. "Of course, I am real! How do I know you are not?!"

Plague doctor Nikon decided that was a fair question, and conceded his point. "Hmm, fair enough. Fine then. I think there's a simple way for us to figure this out."

He sat on the ground, breathing out a sigh as he crossed his arms over his chest. He honestly hadn't thought this out too much, but decided to roll with it. "One of us asks a question relating to our past, and the other responds with their version. Then we switch. Assuming we both give similar answers, that should determine if we really are Doctor Nikon Luca."

"But…how can there we two of us?"

That was a damn good question, but plague doctor Nikon didn't have an answer. It was good to see this other version of himself the Outsider had seemingly conjured wasn't a complete idiot. "Does it matter right now? We can figure that out later. Right now, we need to trust each other. So, I will start first. How did you split your lip?"

Gas mask Nikon paused a second, as if wondering if he wanted to answer that question. "Got in a fight with my dad, twenty-second birthday. Son of a bitch decided to go on a drunken bender and start hitting mom again. I stepped in, he busted my lip, I broke his hand."

That was something different. "Odd. I stabbed him in the chest with a broken bottle."

Gas mask Nikon let out an audible gasp. "You murdered your father?"

Plague doctor Nikon rolled his eyes. "No, it wasn't lethal, and I was able to sew it shut anyway. Son of a bitch never touched mom again, though. Now ask me a question."

The gas mask Nikon took a moment before speaking. "Okay…I have never drunk a drop of alcohol in my life."

That was also good to hear. He didn't like the idea of other versions of himself being drunkards. "Same. Ever since I saw what it did to my old man, never liked the thought of it. Same for you?"

"Yeah. What's your favorite food?"

Plague doctor Nikon glared at him. Perhaps he had been too generous about not labeling him as simpleton. "Fried mushrooms and onions, and really, that's all you can think of?"

"I'm hungry."

"Whatever. I'm not, by the way, in case you wondered. Now, what was your major at the university?"

Gas mask Nikon perked up, as if proud of what he was about to say. "General practices."

That definitely caught plague doctor Nikon's attention. "Now that is interesting. Mine was surgery, with a minor in biology."

"My minor was surgery."

A moment of silence hung between them, before gas mask shattered it.

"So, is that it then? We're different people because we took different classes? What a sad joke, Outsider. You really could've done better."

Plague doctor Nikon glared at him, infuriated he was treating this matter so lightly. "This isn't a joke. I am real. I am Doctor Nikon Luca, chief physician to council member Kuznetsov. My research assistant is Diana Khil, a charming and intelligent woman who was taken from me by Secretary Kalin's private guard. I am conspiring with Prince Kallisar to retrieve her from Kalin's guard barracks. Sound about right, gas mask?"

His other started to shake, voice trembling. "…yes. That's exactly right."

Plague doctor Nikon rapidly thought of a possibility, something in their past that would be the same but different. "Maybe…I can think of one major event that may have influenced us. Something I would never forget as long as I lived. The first time I killed."

"451 Red Crow Street, the watchmaker," spoke gas mask Nikon with a sad glance. "He was fifty-three years old and a master of his craft. He had just made a watch for his nephew before I decided to rob his safe. I hadn't eaten in three days, and the hunger was beginning to torment my mind. As I was unlocking his safe, he found me. We got in a skirmish, and then I…I…"

Plague doctor Nikon continued, already feeling the shame building in his throat like bile. "…slit his throat and watched him bleed out across the floor. I proceeded to vomit on the floor in disgust, and spent the night at my hovel sobbing in shame. I had killed an innocent man, and for what?"

"Thirty-seven coins," whispered the gas mask Nikon. "That's all he had saved up. I killed a human being for thirty-seven coins."

Then he paused, plague doctor Nikon looking up. Clearly his opposite had noticed something in their stories that conflicted. Perhaps about the murder implementation?

"Before, you said the first time you killed…" said the gas mask Nikon cautiously, each word handpicked.

Plague doctor Nikon nodded. "Yes. That was factual. It was the first time I killed a person."

"…I remember it as the only time I've killed a person."

They shared a look, both coming to terms with the gravity of the situation.

"You…you kill people?"

Plague doctor Nikon snarled, irritated by the sheer naivety of the question. "…I had no other choice. I do not enjoy it."

"There is always another choice. How many men did you kill escaping Kuznetsov's manor?"

He honestly struggled to remember for a moment. "Two, technically. Diana shot the other one."

"You got Diana to kill too? What sort of…who…what are you? You can't be me."

Plague doctor Nikon gave him a withering look, deciding he didn't much like this version of himself. "Oh, so you are not Dr. Nikon Luca?"

"I am proposing you are not."

That hit plague doctor Nikon like a ton of bricks. He stood up, face quickly growing red with rage. "How dare you propose that? We are both the same man, just in different circumstances. I think that at one point in time, you may very well have been like me."

The gas mask Nikon stood his ground. "Never. Not in a million years would I kill another person. Even if it meant I must die."

Plague doctor Nikon immediately saw the hole in that logic. "What if it meant Diana would die?"

"…what?"

He took a few steps forward, glaring down at this pathetic excuse for him that lay before him. Even as he moved he saw him shrink back, terrified of this version of himself. "If it came down to it, would you kill a person to rescue Diana?"

"There has to be another…"

Now he got pissed off, something that very rarely happened to him. "What if there isn't?! If it came down to it, who would you rather see die?!"

Then the insect stood his ground. He stood ramrod straight, opened his mouth, and spoke words with such calm seriousness they honestly stunned him. "Myself. If it came down to it, I would give my life so Diana may live. Can you say the same?"

Plague doctor Nikon recoiled backwards, opening his mouth to reply but having no words come out. His mind blanked out, the thought having honestly never occurred to him before then.

"That silence is all I needed to hear," spoke gas mask. "I am leaving now."

Then he turned and disappeared into shadow, leaving him alone on the black stone.


	4. Chapter 4: Spur of the Moment

Diana slid underneath a table, keeping all of her extremities away from the light.

The guard in front of her glanced in her direction for a second before shrugging his shoulders and turning away, gulping down another mouthful of booze. Judging by his stained coat and overall smell, drinking on the job was probably commonplace.

"Top notch security," murmured the former assistant dryly.

The sewer she was in had connected to her cell below Kalin's barracks through a hole covered in plywood and dirt, likely a collapsed portion of the foundation. It had taken her a while, but she had managed to make the hole large enough to fit through and give her time to escape. Thankfully the hole apparently had been unnoticed, and the security in this section of the sewer was rather low.

"Alright, let's go over my options," stated Diana lowly, vocalizing her thoughts aloud much like Nikon did. "He's armed with a pistol and sword, and although drunk, he could easily kill me with either. I am unarmed, tired, hungry, and freezing. Run? He'll shoot me. Attack him? He'll stab me. Seduce him?"

She pondered that last one for a bit. It didn't immediately hold the risk of being shot, though she was hardly a stunning figure. She was also filthy, wearing a tattered white lab coat, and was covered in bruises and cuts. Not exactly prime lecherous material.

Then she stopped. The guy was hammered out of his skull. He'd stick it in mud if he thought it'd wiggle.

She grabbed a bottle of wine off the nearby table, testing its weight. It would do.

She put on a convincing smile, doing her best to walk sensuously, though that seemed more akin to swinging her hips like a spastic. She really was not used to this.

The guard heard her footsteps when she was about five feet away. Clearly, he wasn't completely out of it yet. He whirled around, eyes widening in shock.

"Who the hell are you?!" he demanded, pointing his bottle at her like a weapon but not reaching for the ones on his belt. Good. That meant he didn't perceive her as a major threat.

Diana flashed the best grin she could manage, trying to be charming and mysterious and all those other words men liked to describe their favorite whores.

"Name's Bianca, sweetheart," she said with her best lovey-dovey voice, which was apparently something men liked to hear from whores. "I was sent here by your friends to keep you warm. Seems you've been having some…trouble as of late."

The man glared at her, taking a step back. "What the hell…who sent you? Nikolai? Anton?"

Diana put a finger to her lips, smirking and taking a step forward. She was smirking because she was imagining bashing the bottle into his skull. "A lady never reveals her secrets, but don't fear, I'm not a completely proper lady…"

She extended the bottle of wine temptingly, blowing a kiss over it. "Let's say we have some fun?"

Then she whirled the bottle in her hand, gripped it tight, then smashed it across the man's brow.

The guard screamed in pain as the bottle shattered and dug glass into his face, Diana shoving him into the water of the sewer and sprinting as fast as her legs could carry her.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck…" she chanted running away, panic flooding her body. "Totally not what I planned. I am so screwed."

A bullet slammed into the wall next to her head, causing her to shriek and duck her head for cover. Clearly the man wasn't completely drunk, and her attack had failed to damage his eyes like she had hoped.

She kept running, knowing she was moving towards the south of the city. That was good and bad. There were more guards in the sewers that way, but there were also more nooks and crannies she could hide in. That was the only real option she had now. He would catch her, even as injured as he was, or his cries would draw more guards to her position.

She tempted on going to the first door, but shook her head. He'd definitely search that one first, even if she did her best to hide, and she couldn't guarantee she could hide in that room.

Diana noticed a few barrels in a corner of the room, deciding that was the best place to stow away for the moment. She tucked in quickly, sliding the barrels around to hide her body as best she could. Then she swore to herself, realizing she was wearing white. It would immediately give her away in the darkness, no matter how thick it was.

She ripped the coat off and threw it into the center of the hallway, hoping it would look like she abandoned it in her running. She shivered, her black undershirt paper thin, but decided cold was better than dead.

She glanced to her side, noticing a small rat was perched on the crate next to her. It studied her curiously, not at all afraid.

"Oh, fuck off you," she snapped in a furious whisper. "You'll get me caught."

She heard voices, deciding to tucker down as best she could with her new furred comrade in arms.

A group of guards rounded the corner, one of them holding his bleeding brow.

"She went this way, I know it!" shouted the man she had glassed, panting from the pain he was certainly feeling.

"Hey, there's a coat!" snapped one of the others.

They rushed towards it, grabbing it feverishly. She paled, realizing that all of her pursuers were males, and most of them did not appear to be exactly paragons of society. One of them even smelled the garment like a bloodhound, smirking and licking his lips.

"Still warm," spoke the hound-man, his voice dangerously low.

Diana shivered. She had heard that tone before.

The captain of the group picked up the coat, glancing at it curiously. "A doctor coat? You sure we chasing a lady?"

The injured man nodded, holding his head to stop the blood pouring into his face. "Hell yeah! Bitch fucking glassed me!"

"Nice, you got your ass kicked by a lady," snapped the hound-man.

The injured man glared at his comrade. "Oh, fuck off Anton. I didn't exactly think an ironing board wearing a skirt would knock my ass down."

Diana narrowed her eyes. Ironing board? Now that was rude.

The captain held up the coat. "Think, numbskulls, why would she get rid of this?"

The others looked at each other, not sure what their leader was getting at.

"Uh…to run faster?" proposed one of them, a man with a low brow like a Neanderthal.

"That answer was so terrible I actually got a brief spike of pain when I processed it," stated the captain rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It's freezing here, and this an article of clothing. So, and this is the hard part, think why she'd get rid of it, knowing that little fact."

"…to hide nearby while we're distracted," concluded the one named Anton.

It didn't take them long to find her with that nugget of information. They dragged her out of cover, the man she had glassed earlier glaring at her through a bloody face. The captain studied her face, eyebrows raised.

"Bruises, torn clothing, bad makeup…nothing but a whore," argued the captain calmly.

"She did try to seduce me," spoke the injured man.

"It was difficult, considering your smell," stated Diana.

The captain nodded slightly. "Fair point. Maxim, you smell like a latrine."

"I work in a latrine," argued Maxim, wiping a blot of blood from his eyebrow.

"…again, fair point."

The captain grabbed her by the chin. "Name, whore?"

"Diana Khil. I'm a prisoner under Secretary Kalin."

"Yeah, and Anton over there conducts brain surgery."

Diana shrugged, though such a thing was hard considering her arms were bound. "It's the truth."

The captain paused, genuinely considering the implications of that, then decided it was probably false. "Well, we'll take her back anyway. Figure out what we're going to do with her then."

"I got a few ideas," spoke Anton with a lecherous grin.

Diana paled. She knew that tone very well.

"Captain," warned Diana with a low voice, "you have to believe what I just said, because if you let them do what they're about to do, I swear to God above…"

The captain put a finger to her lips, eyebrows raised. "That sounded suspiciously like an order, whore. So, Anton, you want to have some fun?"

Anton grinned, his dog-like face making the features remarkably disturbing. "Oh yeah. I could do with getting a little wet today."

The captain looked back at Diana, before smiling. "Well, I don't see why not."

He took a few steps back. "Proceed."

Diana did her best to fight back. She kicked, she clawed, she screamed, but there was no fighting. She managed to knock Anton rather hard across the face with a kick, but such an action caused a chorus of blows to rain down on her, surrounding her body in pain. They tore at her clothes, exposing her skin, her body growing numb from the cold.

Anton grinned, licking his lips. "Well, let's proceed then."

A loud snapping noise flew through the tunnels.

Anton gasped as a crossbow bolt slammed through the back of his skull and jutting out his left eye, dislodging the eyeball and spewing the people in front of him with his blood.

He stopped, holding his left eyeball still attached to his head, so shocked all he could do is hold his mouth agape with his hands shaking.

Then he screamed.

A second one slammed into the base of his skull, burrowing through the inside of his mouth and stopping as it smashed into his front teeth. This silenced him completely, having split his spine, and sending him sprawling to the floor.

The soldiers backed away in horror, the captain whirling around in shock.

Four new people stood at the end of the sewer tunnel, one of them holding the crossbow responsible. Diana knew them well, each of them a personal guard for Secretary Kalin.

"Nice shot Zakhar!" complimented Dorian Page, his rapier already out. He grinned at his comrade, holding a thumbs-up. "You really nailed that guy!"

"My first shot missed," murmured Zakhar Usov, reloading his crossbow. "I intended to hit hos cerebellum and brainstem, but I instead hit the parietal and frontal lobe. Really, an all-around disappointing first shot."

"Ah, you really are a bloody bummer, ya know?" asked the swordsman stepping forward, flashing his rapier with small hand strokes. "Well, what have we interrupted today? A few guards having some fun?"

Ranald stepped forward, cracking his metal gauntlets. "Yeah, I'd say so."

The captain stepped forward, hands held up apologetically. "Now let me explain, Sir Ranald…"

The massive bruiser grabbed the captain with both hands, squeezing hard. The captain grunted in pain as he collapsed, only the two hands crushing his skull keeping him up.

"Please do, captain," stated Ranald evenly, though his tone was slick with venom. He began to squeeze tighter, blood beginning to leak from his eyes due to the pressure. "Because it appears that you were approving the sexual assault of this woman here, and that really pisses me off if that is the case."

"Sir…it was…a spur of…the moment…"

"Ah, a spur of the moment decision? Well, I take it you can forgive a spur of the moment decision I'm about to have."

He slammed his hands together as if he were clapping, crushing his skull and soaking his entire front with blood, brain, and bone fragments. He dropped the captain, smirking.

"Dorian, you owe me twenty coins."

"Ah, shit, you really did it?" snapped the swordsman. "Crushing a man's skull with your hands…I really didn't think it was possible."

He grabbed Diana, removing his cloak and wrapping it around her exposed body. "Here you go miss. I apologize for the treatment these dullards gave you, it was never our intention for you to be harmed in such an animalistic way."

"As opposed to beating me senseless with fists?" asked Diana sharply.

"You can blame Mikhailov for that," argued Amelia Caro, aiming her twin pistols at the guards. "We guard Sir Kalin, that is all. You are important to him, so we rescued you. But this…"

She snarled. "This breach of conduct by our personal men…it is unacceptable."

"Oh, let me do it, let me do it," begged Dorian hopping on his feet, panting in excitement. "I want to kill them, kill, kill. I'm so fucking ready right now."

One of the guards got to his knees, hands held up. "Wait! Wait, please! Spare me!"

"Spare me?" quoted Dorian standing before him, smiling pleasantly. "Now that's cowardly and selfish. You could've at least asked to 'spare us' instead of just you. I wouldn't have done either, but my opinion of you would've at least been above that of an insect. Now, it holds roughly the same rank as that of bacteria."

He suddenly stabbed him clean through the neck, the guard grasping at the sword desperately. His breathing became labored, blood leaking into his lungs.

"Oh? Out of words? Shame. I wanted to hear more excuses or pleas."

Amelia rolled her eyes, leveling her pistol and blowing the man's head off. He flew off Dorian's sword, slamming into the floor.

Dorian whirled to face her, his face red with rage. "Bitch! I had him! He was already dead!"

"Then kill him and move on," grunted the gunslinger. "You're so damn sadistic it gets in the way of your work. Killing is part of the job, that doesn't mean we have to enjoy it."

Zakhar nodded in agreement. "Yes, let's kill them and move on."

Amelia and Zakhar killed the remaining two, Dorian cleaning his blade with a pouting face.

"You all are no fun," murmured the swordsman. He elbowed Diana. "You get a look at these guys? Bunch of serious-faced assholes, the lot of them."

"Do you always have to act like an ingrate?" inquired Diana critically.

Dorian grinned. "Well, you're acting rather ingrate-ful."

"It's ungrateful," murmured the assistant rolling her eyes.

The swordsman chuckled, though his eyes did not. "Well, to be fair, I'm not from around here. And where I'm from, you thank people who save your life, or in this case, your ass."

"Dorian, back off," ordered Amelia grabbing Diana's arm. "You don't get to harm the prisoner unless ordered to."

Dorian gave a mock bow, his head low. "Of course, forgive my insolence."

They took Diana back, leaving the bodies in the sewer for the rats to feast. Dorian left shortly afterwards, claiming the need to resume his patrols.

He winked at Diana, bobbing her softly on the nose with his index finger. "Farewell lovely lady. I hope one day we can meet again in more favorable conditions."

They lead Diana past her cell, leading her deeper into the facility.

"Where are you taking me?" asked the assistant nervously.

"Secretary Kalin ordered us to take you directly to him if you should ever escape," explained Zakhar. "We planned on you doing so. I was stationed directly opposite your cell for the last three hours, waiting for you to break into that hole you discovered. I admit, it took less time than I expected."

Diana gritted her teeth. They had planned on her escape after all.

They stopped right before an ornately decorated door, Ranald pulling a set of keys to unlock it. He stepped in first, followed by the others.

Secretary Kalin looked up from his desk, eyebrows raised. "Oh? You found her. Excellent. I would be most disappointed…"

He stopped, eyes narrowing. "Amelia, she is half-naked. What happened?"

"Some of the guards were attempting to have their way with her," explained the gunslinger, the disgust flowing through her voice.

Anna Morozov, having stood by Kalin's side the whole time, straightened in shock. "What?! Those bastards…what did you do to them?"

Ranald held up his gauntlets, still covered in blood.

Kalin nodded. "Good. I do not tolerate rapists in my inner circle."

He glanced at Diana and gave his best politician's smile. "I am truly sorry that happened to you, Ms. Diana."

"Save your sympathy," spat Diana tightening the cloak over her chest. "Doubtless it is insincere."

Morozov took a step, raising a fist to strike, but Kalin stopped her with a single hand. He shook his head, causing her to back away.

"Diana, I understand you are emotionally disturbed, but please do not lash out at us. Also, if you call me a liar again, I'll have your head chopped off. Now onto the matter of Nikon's research…"

"I told you, it's gibberish," argued the assistant, trying to bluff her way out. "Nikon's actual notes were terrible, barely legible really. I had my own version of his notes, but your men burned them as well as the rest of our research equipment with Kuznetsov's manor."

Kalin frowned. "That is indeed unfortunate."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Diana, you are going to force my hand at this if you continue. I will have to do something I really dislike doing to get that research out of you, and I hope you are aware of that."

Diana glared at him, eyes full of anger. "Go to hell. I hope Nikon takes your eyes out."

Kalin shrugged. "Maybe he will. I don't really need them, to be fair…"

He held up his right hand, removing his glove to expose the back of his hand. Diana's eyes widened when she saw what was there, and knew she and the doctor were in deep trouble.

Kalin glanced at the mark of the Outsider on the back of his hand, smiling. "I won't really need them, because this lets me see whatever I want. This hand of mine can see all, and what it does not see, does not exist. So…"

He reached across the table, fingers outstretched. "…let's see what I want to see."


	5. Chapter 5: Not Black and White

Nikon studied the blade he had been given through the lens of his mask, activating the trigger to channel electricity through it.

"…that bastard," he whispered, his reflection only showing him that gas-masked version of himself he met that vision. "Diana carries my work with her, of course I would die so she would live. But why…why is he so eager to die for her…"

He sheathed his sword, finally resting his mind to a question he'd been pondering. "Doesn't matter. Selfless fools are still fools. I will get Diana back, no matter the cost."

He looked down the street, sizing up the guard barracks he was meant to assault. He had three possible avenues to assault it: the roof, the sewers, and a secret guard's entrance on the northern side of the building. Each option carried its own form of risk, but he would have to evaluate them as the situation progressed.

He lit a cigarette, sighing. This was going to be a long night.

He walked back into the apartment building he had entered, the rest of Kallisar's men stationed there for the attack. Irving was the leader of the attack, and he seemed particularly eager to get started. He was checking the explosives near the map of the barracks, tightening the bundles together.

"You got any ideas, doctor?" inquired the bulky man.

"Three, but I'll need to be in the field first," said the surgeon calmly. "Also, if I hear explosives before I give the signal, I am going to be really pissed at you."

Irving smirked. "Don't worry, my men are trained well-enough not to go crazy. We'll keep an eye out for your signal."

Nikon pointed to the map, specifically at the schematic of the roof. "If your blueprints are correct, this hatch up here has no lock and can be opened from either side. It is constantly monitored by a total of four guards, two on the roof and two stationed below it. I will do my best to attempt my entrance and exit from this point."

He gestured to the sewer systems. "If not, I will go through the basement and into the sewers towards the south, where the guards will be less thick."

He pointed to the guard entrance on the northside. "This is my absolute last choice, but if need be, I will attempt to force my way through."

Nikon sighed, crossing his arms. "Unfortunately, if I need to be carrying these two, that will limit my options. I am under the assumption they are conscious and capable of independent movement, but that may not be the case if they were tortured extensively. That will necessitate I go through the basement or guard entrance, but it would be beneficial for you to start your attack while I'm rescuing them if such a thing was the case."

"Well, I'll leave that decision making up to you," stated Irving. "I need to worry about making sure my guys don't die out there. You can head out whenever you're ready."

The surgeon nodded, adjusting his darkened coat. "No point in delaying then."

He walked onto the balcony, seeing another nearby balcony across the street. He grabbed the imaginary ball in his left hand, breathing in deep.

"Outsider, this damn well better work."

He tossed it.

He caught the ball on the other balcony, panting in excitement from the millisecond of speed he felt. He had practiced the ability before going out, obviously, but he was pleased it had worked so well in a trial by fire.

"Okay, good so far," he muttered looking further down the street. "Let's keep going."

He made his way down the street like that, landing on balconies and rooftops to hide his movements from the guards patrolling on the street. He studied the way they patrolled, keeping tabs on where they would round corners or turn back.

He stopped right next to the guard barrack's roof to finish writing down the notes he had taken before turning to the roof itself. There were two guards seated near the hatch itself, and they appeared to not be drinking. Amazingly, they seemed to be one of the few guards that actually took their job seriously.

"Fuck," grunted the surgeon. "Can I take them out before they alert the others?"

He imagined the scenario in his head. Every single time he did, he could only imagine himself dying or creating enough noise to make his efforts null.

"Distraction tactics? Unlikely, these are clearly not gadabouts. They'll raise the alarm instead of look around like idiots. Ranged attack with crossbow? Cannot guarantee my aim."

He paused, hearing something. He concentrated, determining that it was some sort of ringing noise. It seemed to be coming from below him, through the concrete of the building's roof.

"This apartment building…I'm pretty sure it's occupied," he murmured. "But what's making that noise?"

He moved over to the edge of the roof and found a balcony with an open door. He dropped down, quickly determining that the apartment he had just entered was occupied by a single person. It was a young woman, cooking something on the stovetop. The ringing was loudest here, so he determined that whatever it was, it was inside this apartment.

First things first, he dealt with the woman. When she turned back to the stove, he struck out and grabbed her by the neck and covered her mouth. The woman screamed, grabbing the pan and trying to swing at him. He ducked the hot iron and slammed her bodily into the wall, dazing her and letting him continue to choke her.

Once she was limp, he set her down, making sure she was still breathing. He didn't want to kill a civilian, and to his relief he found she was alive. He set her down gently on her couch and put a blanket over her, before returning to the reason for his intrusion.

Nikon searched the living room, before determining that the noise was coming from a small hanging glass case on the wall. Inside the case was a circular bit of whalebone with a familiar black symbol etched into it, and it seemed to vibrate inside its casing.

"Damn Outsider," grunted the surgeon. "He really is everywhere."

He opened the case and took the rune out, studying it. It had been hand-carved, and it appeared to have small dabs of blood and ink all over the surface. Obviously, whoever had crafted this was into the occult arts, and clearly had put a lot of effort into it.

He looked up, startled. He was now in the Void, the living room effectively torn to shreds inside the ethereal realm.

"Goddamn it."

"You called?" asked the Outsider stepping out from behind the couch with the unconscious woman lying on it, dusting himself off.

"Not really, but I figured you lead me to this rune for a reason," argued Nikon.

"Fair enough. Yes, I did. I wanted to talk."

The Outsider sat next to the woman. "Hmm…this is intriguing. You are the Nikon who chooses to kill, and yet, you still show mercy."

"Men are not black and white," snapped the surgeon. "Also, that little illusion of yours? I'm not buying it."

"First, it was not an illusion," argued the Outsider. "Second, what do you mean by black and white?"

Nikon sighed. "…it's simple. In a large field of science, things are and are not. A stomach, for example, is a stomach, but it is also not a heart, or not a brain, or any number of things. For mankind, it works a bit differently. A man is not good and he is not evil, but somewhere in the middle. Human beings do not work binarily. If you ask the common man if he would kill a stranger, he would decline, but if you asked him to kill a murderer who harmed his loved ones, he would assuredly agree. Does that qualify the common man as a killer in all circumstances? No, it does not."

"A realistic philosophy," complimented the Outsider, "yet there is a flaw. If anything cannot be labeled as one extreme or the other, how can you label anything at all? Is everything just shades of grey, doctor? And if so, how is one shade darker or lighter than the other? You criticize the ideology behind labels, yet offer no rebuttal."

"Maybe there are no labels," argued the surgeon. "We attach these things to others to justify our actions and discredit the actions of our enemies, and yet I have always found them tiresome and unnecessary. Nothing is justified, there is no greater good or evil. Things are, and that is all. I act because I decide to, and my enemies act because they decide to, and our goals contradict, hence why we are enemies. I stand on no higher ground than them just because of that reason."

The Outsider nodded, scratching his chin in contemplation. "Yes…that is indeed valid reasoning…"

He appeared beside him, holding out both of his hands. "While I think of a reply, I have two gifts to give you. The first, is to aid you in your travels to find more of these runes."

"Oh great, more philosophical debates," grunted the surgeon.

"Now, now, the runes have an additional benefit. I can give you new powers for your journey. But first, you have to find them."

He placed his hand over Nikon's, snapping his fingers.

The surgeon felt a weight appear in his right hand, looking down curiously. Then he recoiled in shock and revulsion.

He was holding some sort of human heart in his hand, a combination of flesh and metal like it had been yanked out of a human automaton. He was not disturbed by holding a heart, as he had done a few autopsies before, but it looked far sicklier and grotesque than any he had seen before.

"…whose heart is this?" asked Nikon nervously.

"…someone important to you," answered the Outsider cryptically.

The surgeon gave the heart an experimental squeeze, then to his eternal astonishment, heard a voice in his head.

"It's so cold here," whispered a feminine voice right into his mind, as if it were a part of his own consciousness.

Nikon had a few guesses on the heart's owner, but decided that the best idea was to ignore it. "What's the second thing?"

The Outsider extended his other hand, twirling his fingers.

The surgeon felt his left hand burn, grunting as he held it up to notice the Mark of the Outsider flare up again. Then his hand disappeared from his sight, allowing him to see the floor straight through it.

He recoiled, looking down upon the rest of his body to see it too had become invisible. He knew it was still present, as he could feel the cold on his neck and the hairs on his arms standing on end, but he could not see it any longer. Then he moved, and it returned to his sight.

"It's called Stasis," explained the Outsider. "Much like Fling, it's a power from the Void. As you can see, it allows you to turn invisible as long as you are standing still. I imagine you can think of a few uses for that."

Nikon nodded, experimentally trying to activate the power. He found if he mimed the same motion the Outsider did, extending all of his fingers on his left hand in a star-like fashion, would make him invisible so long as he did not move the rest of his body.

"…interesting," whispered the surgeon, looking back at the heart. "…this heart is Diana's, isn't it?"

He looked up, before noticing the Outsider had left him, taking the Void with him.

"Typical," grunted Nikon rolling his eyes. He held up the heart, feeling its metallic beat beneath his fingers.

"Diana…I seriously doubt you can hear me through this," began the surgeon, feeling sillier by the moment, "but if you can, hang on. I'm on my way."

He tucked it away and was about to head out before he realized he hadn't really tested his new power. Deciding that it was a good idea to experiment, he quickly went over a few things.

After about ten minutes, he had the finer points of Stasis figured out. It only worked while he stood still, but he found he could still move his head side to side without the effect breaking. The effect lasted for around ten seconds before he could maintain it no longer, and it seemed to need to "recharge" for about as long as the duration was before he could use it again. He tested to see if it worked while in mid-air, and found it did not, as well as not working while sliding across the ground.

"Okay, pseudo-scientific method gone over," he murmured deactivating Stasis. "Time to go."

He gave one last glance at the unconscious woman, the Outsider's words ringing in his ear.

"…I'm sorry," he whispered, though he had no idea why he was apologizing. It simply felt like the right thing to say.

He exited the building and returned to the roof, eyeing the guard barracks once more. The two guards at the roof hatch maintained their vigilance, watching out for intruders.

"Okay Outsider, let's use these gifts of yours."

Nikon activated Fling, tossing the invisible ball in his hand as he mentally aimed. After a moment, he threw it.

The surgeon teleported right behind a barrel on the edge of the roof, apparently where the guards smoked judging by the tobacco ash nearby. He glanced out from the barrel, cursing. There was almost no cover up here besides this barrel, and he had a large distance of about five meters to cover.

"…it is sort of dark," he pondered. "Maybe I can use that."

He activated Fling again, watching the guard's eyes. His entire body was still, ready to pounce like a cat.

He saw them glance to the right, so he tossed the ball to the left.

He teleported low to the ground, immediately activating Stasis.

"Huh?" spoke one of the guards, glancing right at where he lay invisible. "You see that?"

"What?" asked the other.

"I…I saw something move…"

"Probably a crow or a rat. There's nowhere to hide up here. You're getting jumpy."

Nikon breathed hard as he lay stock still across the ground, panic having unconsciously filled his veins. He was counting down the duration, hoping against hope that the guard turned back around for him to move again.

"10…9…8…7…" he whispered, sweat rolling down his face.

The guard mercifully turned, and he struck then. He threw Fling right behind the two, having deactivated Stasis with the movement.

"What the fuck?!" shouted the guard, glancing back where he had been once again.

"Oh come on, relax!" ordered the other. "There's nothing there, see?"

"I'm telling you, there's something fucking with us here! We need to…!"

He turned back around, before noticing his companion's throat as slit, blood gurgling and mixing with his blood as it pooled across his shirt.

Nikon leaped out from behind the dead guard, stabbing his sword clean through the guard's chest. The skeptical guard grabbed the blade, breathing heavily as the pain ran through his body. Then he died, the blade having pierced his heart.

The surgeon stood, wiping the blade against their uniforms. He sheathed his sword, moving back towards the roof hatch.

"Hang on Diana, I'm on the way."


	6. Chapter 6: The Problem is Where

Nikon stood against the door frame as tightly as he could, willing himself to not move. His days as a thief had taught him that movement was the detriment to stealth, and any flicker of his body could give away his position more easily than any noise he might've made.

The maid who had saw him and came to investigate glanced inside the room curiously. She was sure she had seen someone skulking into the library, and yet there wasn't anything of interest in the room.

She shrugged. Oh well. There was cleaning to be done.

Nikon heard her walk off, sighing. Good.

He turned back to the scene he had left, visible only from the angle he was at. Two guards had been inside the library when he had entered, and he had hauled their bodies to sit behind a couch in the center of the room. The first one had been easy, a slit throat. The second was a bit constrained, as he had turned around at the same time Nikon had fired his crossbow, missing by an inch. He threw his knife and managed to nail the man right in the throat, cutting out his cry. Sloppy, but effective.

The surgeon moved out into the hallway, making sure to stick to the edges of the walls. He didn't have any real idea where he was going, but figured the best way to proceed was forward.

Nikon stopped dead when he saw two guards at the end of the hallway he was in, stopping right behind a small cabinet. They were talking, but were not facing him.

"So, you ever go to that new gambling hall?" asked the first.

"Run by that fat bastard from Karnaca? Matthew Rick?"

"Matteo Ricci, yeah. Hell of a place, you should try it."

"Naw, that place is weird. No dice or cards, betting against machines? Probably rigged."

"Oh, you don't go for the gambling. The whores are top notch there."

"Really? Hmm, doesn't sound so baaargh!"

That last noise was the noise produced when Nikon's knife entered the back of his head and out his left eye socket, scrambling all the brains in between those areas into mush. His comrade turned to glance at his comrade a split-second before a crossbow belt slammed into the base of his skull, and then it was all black.

Nikon grabbed their bodies and quickly shuffled them into a nearby closet. He quickly wiped up the blood with his sleeve, the tile easily allowing him to do so, and kept moving.

The surgeon finally reached a new obstacle, albeit one that was not active. It was a Jindosh Clockwork Soldier, standing peacefully in an alcove at a hallway intersection.

He debated over what to do. If he left it, there was a chance it would activate, and he would never be able to take on that monstrosity in a fair fight. He did not know how to disable or rewire it either.

He paused, holding up his sword. He activated his electric sword, watching the sparks fly off the blade. Every Clockwork Soldier had a panel on their right leg where a decent chunk of wires all directly went into, meaning that it must be important in some regard.

"…well, better now than later," he stated shrugging.

He jabbed the sword into the panel and activated it, releasing lightning into the robot. The Jindosh collapsed into a heap after only a few seconds of that treatment, slamming into the floor with a heavy thud.

Nikon swore and quickly ducked for cover behind a cabinet.

Three guards appeared, swords drawn, all gathering around the collapsed robot.

"The fuck happened?!" demanded the first one, a captain.

"No idea sir!" reported the second.

The third knelt down, nervously tapping the robot. "Maybe it ran out of juice?"

The captain looked around, not seeing any perpetrator, then sheathed his sword. He sighed. "Goddamn it, Kalin is going to be furious. He paid good money for this clanker."

He pointed to his two fellows. "You two, make yourselves useful. I'm going to report this to Morozov."

The two guards walked off, the captain remaining behind and sighing. Clearly, this wasn't going to be a pleasant thing to talk about.

The captain strode further down the hall, Nikon tailing him slowly just in case someone turned a corner and spotted him. A few times he had to Fling himself to the upper rafters of the building, but otherwise his pursuit went unnoticed.

The captain stopped in front of an office door, hesitating at the door. Judging by that alone, Nikon knew this was the right spot to be.

He landed softly behind the captain, immediately lunging forward and planting his sword right into the base of his skull. The captain lurched forward, a stiff arm from the surgeon preventing him from falling into the door.

Then Nikon opened the door, activating Stasis immediately to disguise both himself and the body he was holding.

The office was small and relatively unfurnished, consisting only of a desk and chair with a few shelves on the walls. Save for a window, the room was rather barren.

Anna Morozov stood up quickly, having seen and heard the door being thrown open but not seeing anything that could've done it. She had her sword out, her left hand covered in a metal cestus.

"…hello? Who's there?" she asked cautiously.

She moved closer to the door. Nikon waited until Stasis was just about to give out, then he struck.

He threw the captain's body right at her, the sudden appearance startling her. The corpse knocked her off-balance, but did not knock her over like he had hoped. He lunged with his sword.

Anna blocked the strike expertly, almost contemptuously. She countered with her cestus, slamming it into the side of his chest.

Nikon coughed, wheezing in air that had been punched out. That blow had likely broken a rib or two, and certainly bruised him.

"Guards! Guards!" screamed Anna frantically, not breaking her guarded stance. "I'm being attacked! Sound the alarm!"

Nikon quickly noticed an electrical panel next to Anna's desk, likely one connected to the alarm system in case she needed it. He regripped his sword and threw it.

The blade spun and smashed into the box but did not stick. Thankfully, that had not been why he had thrown it.

The lightning from the sword's hilt jutted into the alarm panel, frying it in the split-second before the sword hit the floor.

"Clever motherfucker," snarled Anna. "But now you don't have a weapon."

She pressed the advantage, swinging her sword with deliberate deadly strikes. Nikon dodged as best he could in the limited space, trying to edge closer to his sword to no avail.

He leaped back and used Stasis, turning invisible.

Anna stopped, backing herself against a wall and studying the area around her. Thankfully, she did not know how his powers worked.

"Come on out!" she shouted. "I know you're here somewhere! I can still see your sword!"

Nikon deactivated Stasis, rapidly reaching for his crossbow and firing a bolt. It smashed into Anna's left forearm she had thrown up to block it, her other hand already moving to stab with her sword.

The surgeon dodged the strike but continued his assault, harshly kicking her in the privates as hard as he could. She groaned, the surgeon firing his crossbow straight down into her right foot, embedding it into the floor.

Anna screamed in agony, her left hand dropping to clutch at the maimed appendage a second before she was staring down the barrel of a firearm.

Nikon blew her head off with his pistol, splattering the entire wall with gore. Her body fell limply to the floor, her foot still pinned.

He rapidly set to work, pursing over her body for any information. Her found nothing but a few bullets and change, so he decided that it had to be in her desk.

The surgeon heard raised voices, and swiftly grabbed her shelving units and threw them over the door. It swung inwards, so they would have to hack it down to get inside. Plenty of time.

He went through her desk, shoving anything that looked like a piece of paper into his pack. Now was not the time for reading. He would investigate them later.

The door slammed, Nikon looking up in a panic. Guards had arrived, and were trying to open the jammed door.

"Got to find Diana, and that bitch Kalin wants before I hightail it," he noted to himself. "The problem is where…"

He stopped, seeing a map in his pack of hastily stolen papers. He read through it, seeing two rooms of interest. Interrogation Room, and Holding Cells, both in the basement.

"Well, best place to start as any," he grunted.

He grabbed a nearby book, tossing it clean through the window to shatter it. He collected his sword, leaping through the glass to stand on the thin windowsill. Time to head back to the roof to start the process again.


End file.
